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JIddress of 
Charles L. Brown 



County 
Donegal 




January <23 $ 1917 




Class. 
Book 



ADDRESS 

OF 

Charles L. Brown 

PRESIDENT JUDGE MUNICIPAL COURT 



COUNTY DONEGAL 



JANUARY 23, 1917 



ADDRESS 



I feel that I have a right to address the members of the 
Donegal Society. My father was born at a place called 
Churchhill in Donegal, of parents who were born in Edin- 
burgh, Scotland, and who after their marriage took up 
their residence at Donegal. My great grandfather, who is 
buried in a Presbyterian Churchyard in Edinburgh, was the 
father of eight sons, four of whom died in the Crimean War. 
My grandmother was a Logan of the family who came over 
with William Penn and when she and my grandfather came 
to Philadelphia, they located on a farm and nursery property 
at a place now called in Philadelphia — "Logan." 

In the extreme northwestern corner of Ireland lies the 
County of Donegal, whose name, according to antiquarians, 
signifies "the Fortress of the Foreigner," ostensibly alluding 
to the early Danish invasion. But under its ancient name of 
"Tyrconnel," it was and still is the most Irish of all the 
counties in Ireland. 

County Donegal, the last to succumb to the prowess of the 
Anglo-Saxon invader, and, as the home of Saint Columba, the 
"Dove of the Church"; and Red Hugh O'Donnell, the "Sword 
of Ulster," occupies the most glorious pages of Irish history, 
beside those of Saint Patrick and Brian Boru. 

Writers who have traveled Donegal say it abounds with 
native Irish hospitality and civility ; that it is rich in legendary 
lore, and that nowhere else in Erin does "The Irish" so gen- 
erally prevail and nowhere is the dialect so pure. 

Though the soil is stubborn and reluctantly yields to the 
cultivation by man, and though the landlord and tenant laws 
have unfortunately operated against the humble tenant, often 
depriving him of the means of livelihood, so that in the sum- 
mer season he is compelled to seek employment in the fields 



of Scotland and England, nature, as if to atone for her defi- 
ciency, has created the most beautiful scenery, perhaps, in 
the world. 

A grand coast-line from Lough Foyle to Donegal Bay, 
dotted with charming loughs and land-locked bays ; lined with 
massive cliffs of varied colors, where sunshine and shadows 
alternately chase each other; a country dotted with attractive 
hamlets and ancient ruins ; a people — clean, healthy, witty and 
free from guile — have made this garden spot a favorite resort 
for those seeking healthy recreation and beautiful scenery. 

It is conceded that the population of Donegal decreases 
less than any other county in Ireland, and it is a matter of 
repute that the emigrant from Donegal never loses the recol- 
lection of his home; but that his heart is there — no matter 
where he roam. 

At the station of Saint Columba, above Lough Akibbon, 
there is a graveyard where Protestant and Catholic repose 
together. Says Stephen Gwynn, in his charming "Highways 
and By-ways of Donegal," — "They sleep there quiet and 
wholesome on the green hillside, with the lovely Lake below 
them. In the very centre stands a new and conspicuous 
monument. Some one in Wilmington, U. S. A., erected it in 
memory of his parents — natives of the parish. There you 
have the very spirit of this country. Hard and stubborn as 
the soil is, ungrateful to the tillers of it, it breeds a strong 
race. They go out over the seas and win a prosperity impos- 
sible in their homes, but you shall scarcely hear of one who 
does not send back constant remittances to the old people. 
Gray stones, brown moors and blue water make a living 
image forever in their hearts, and it pleases them (if they 
cannot be there to close the eyes of those they love) to erect 
some memorial that shall link their names to the home they 
have not forgotten." 

How beautifully the poet of Donegal, William Allingham, 
has put it in "The Winding Banks of Erne." Says he : 

"Adieu to Ballyshannon, where I was bred and born; 
Go where I may, I'll think of you as sure as night and morn. 
The kindly spot, the friendly town, where everyone is known ; 
And not a face in all the place, but partly seems my own. 
There's not a house or window ; there's not a field or hill 
But east or west, in foreign lands, I'll recollect them still ! 



I leave my warm heart with you, though my back I'm forced 

to turn. 
So, adieu to Ballyshannon and the winding banks of Erne. 

If ever I'm a moneyed man, I mean, please God, to cast 

My golden anchor in the place where youthful years were 
passed ; 

Though heads that now are black and brown, must mean- 
while gather gray — 

New faces rise by every hearth, and old ones drop away ; 

Yet dearer still that Irish hill than all the world beside; 

It's Home, Sweet Home, where'er I roam through lands and 
waters wide; 

And if the Lord allows me, I surely will return 

To my native Ballyshannon and the winding banks of Erne !" 

The Donegal man, though it has been centuries since 
"The Sword of Ulster" was broken at the disastrous Battle 
of Kinsale, has inherited the righting qualities of his ancestors. 
Gwynn relates the story of a girl describing a wedding she 
had attended at Dunfanaghy. The girl was jubilant. The 
bride, like herself, was a "McGettigan" ; the groom was a 
"McGettigan," and they had each brought fifty "McGettigans" 
to the wedding. First, they danced; and then they sang; 
then they fought! And, oh, it was a grand wedding," 
exclaimed the ecstatic girl. 

As a matter of fact, the greatest fighters in Ireland were 
the stout Ulster ancestors of the Donegal men. To this day 
is remembered the mighty prowess of the O'Donnell, with 
his Gallowglasses ; of the Maguires; the O'Gallaghers ; the 
McDevitts ; the Kavanaghs ; the O'Doghertys ; the O'Hanlons ; 
and the McLoons, and the McSwinneys. 

Old Godfrey O'Donnell and his famous descendant, "Red 
Hugh," called "The Sword of Ulster," fought for their country 
and for their right to till the soil and own their homes. They 
were of the Race of Conn, which had produced the great 
Saint Columba, who, next to Saint Patrick, was Premier Saint 
of Ireland, and who had spread the gospel throughout Britain. 

It is related of Old Godfrey O'Donnell that, in his last 
battle with the O'Neill, as he lay dying on a litter he insisted 
upon being borne into the thick of the fray. Around the 
litter raged the conflict, until the O'Neill, beaten, retired from 



the field. Then the triumphant Conals bore the dying con- 
queror along the beautiful Swilley into the Street of Conwall, 
where his soul departed amid the shouts of victory : 

"And proud and high Tyrconnell shouts, but blending on the 
gale; 
Upon the ear ascendeth a sad and sullen wail ; 
For on that field, as back they bore, from chasing of the foe, 
The spirit of O'Donnel fled, — oh, woe to Ulster — woe. 
Yet died he there all gloriously, a victor in the fight; 
A Chieftain at his peoples' head, a warrior in his might ; 
They dug him there a fitting grave upon that field of pride, 
And a lofty cairn they raised above, by Fair Lough Swilley 's 
side !" 

It was this fearless courage that made the shouts of 
"O'Donnell Aboo" so terrible to the Saxon invader. For ten 
years, upon many hard fought fields, Red Hugh, "The Sword 
of Ulster," and The O'Neill, the "Red Hand of Tyrone," beat 
back the hated Sassenach. At the Yellow Ford, at Bally- 
shannon, at the Blackwater, and wherever the Saxon could be 
found, Red Hugh and his Gallowglasses gave them no rest. 

The greatest English commanders, Lord De Burgh, Earl 
of Kildare, Marshall Bagnal, General Norris^ Sir Conyers 
Clifford, were beaten and left dead upon the field, and even 
the Great Essex, the favorite of Queen Elizabeth, was so badly 
worsted, that his Royal Mistress, in mortification, sent him to 
the block of the executioner. 

But even Red Hugh was at last defeated ; the "Sword of 
Ulster" was broken, and Red Hugh died in a foreign land — 
the victim of a hired poisoner. 

Donegal has always been true to her Irish principles, and 
she has been in sympathy with every movement for the eleva- 
tion of the people. When the late Michael Davitt organized 
the Land League, Donegal was in the grip of the land grabber, 
and she opened her heart to the unselfish patriot, and, although 
not to the manner born, enshrined him with her other heroes, 
the "Sword of Ulster," and the "Dove of the Church." 

And so, in Donegal they revere the memory of Saint 
Columba, because he fortified Christianity and spread the 
gospel; of Red Hugh O'Donnell, because he was Irish of the 
Irish, and relentlessly opposed the Sassenach ; and of Michael 
Davitt, because he loved the people and devoted his life and 



his freedom to ameliorating the condition of his fellowmen. 
The love of the Donegal people for Michael Davitt is attested 
by Sheehy Skeffington in his "Life of Davitt," and by Wilfrid 
Seawen Blunt, in his "Land War in Ireland." Michael Davitt's 
mother is buried in Manayunk, Philadelphia. In his will he 
provided for interment in her grave, should he die in America. 
He died in Ireland, however, and was buried in his native 
County Mayo. 

Skeffington calls him the greatest Irishman of the nine- 
teenth century, and Justin McCarthy compares him to the 
Abou Ben Adhem "as one who loved his fellowman." 

Thus, throughout the length and breadth of the county, 
from Donegal Castle of the O'Donnells to Greenan-Ely, the 
palace of the Ancient Kings of Ulster; from Lough Swilley 
to Lough Foyle; from the Fairy bridge of Bundoran to Mc- 
Swinneys' Gun (McSwinneys' Gun is a show spot of Donegal. 
It is a large hole in the top of a cave. When the sea beats in, 
it forces a stream of water and rocks through the hole in the 
cave to a height of 100 feet, with a roar that can be heard for 
miles) ; from Malin Head to Slieve League ; from top to 
bottom and clear across — may the good people of Donegal — 
there — here and everywhere — get what they deserve — the 
reward of a virtuous life; industrious life; industrious habits 
and intense love of the traditions of their race. Good luck, 
and plenty of it, and may her native soil respond to cultivation 
until Donegal is as prosperous as she is beautiful ! 



